


The Scars Remind Us

by SailorLestrade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: John Finds Out, Kinda sad but it's okay, Mycroft needs a lesson in talking to people, Sweet, kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorLestrade/pseuds/SailorLestrade
Summary: John finds out about Sherlock's scars and that causes more things to come to life.





	

Sherlock always took great care to cover his back so that no one could see what lay there. Of course Mycroft knew, because he set there and watched as Sherlock was repeatedly beat. Over and over again. He tried to hide the flinch when Lestrade would pat him on the back or when someone threw something right at him. He thought he was hiding right. Until the day John walked into his room without knocking.

Sherlock had been standing at the full length mirror that hung on the back of his closet door. Mrs. Hudson insisted on keeping it there, because she was afraid that it would get broken in her place. He stood there, looking over his shoulder, running his fingers over the scars that he could touch. They still seemed to feel sore after all this time. When it happened, he had to sit forward on furniture to keep his back from touching anything. He couldn’t sleep on his back or even let his shirt lay on his back. That was the hardest part of hiding it. But Mycroft had sent him the best medicine to help with it. Only a couple doses a day dropped off by Anthea so that there wasn’t the risk of habit forming.

“My god.” John said then, alerting Sherlock to the doctor’s presence. He hadn’t heard him come into the flat, but he had been so distracted by the scars on his back that Jim Moriarty could’ve risen from the grave and started a strip tease in front of him and he wouldn’t have noticed. John quickly walked over to Sherlock. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sherlock sighed softly, shying away from the touch.

“Do they hurt?”

“No.” Sherlock lied. Subconsciously, they hurt so bad. John looked up at Sherlock, who was avoiding looking at him.

“What happened?” John asked, leading Sherlock away from the mirror. He set him on the bed so that he could examine his back better. “Sherlock, who did this to you?”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock joked. “He let this happen to me.” John frowned.

“Your brother did this?” John asked, already plotting ways to get around Mycroft’s security so they could have a meeting.

“No. Some Siberian prison guard did.” Sherlock explained. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Sherlock gently pushed John away and crawled into his bed, curling up under the quilt. John frowned, having more questions than answers, but he decided to go to another source for these answers.

****

“What can I help you with Doctor Watson?” Mycroft asked as John took the seat across from him. “I am a very busy man you know.”

“It’s about Sherlock.” John said. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Of course it is.” He sighed. “Just take him to a clinic and they’ll deal with him.”

“Do you know about all the scars on his back?” John asked. Mycroft froze and turned to actually look the doctor in the eye. John stared back at him.

“How do you know about those?” Mycroft asked.

“I walked into his room and saw them.” John said. “Why would he hide them? How did he get them?” Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well?”

“It all started with Jim Moriarty.” Mycroft explained, putting his hands on his desks. John set on the edge of his seat. “A lot of this is still classified, but I can tell you what I can. We had received word that Moriarty was about to corner Sherlock. So we developed a plan. He would fake his death. He was supposed to show up in America. We even had an apartment lined up in Manhattan for him. That was until something new came to light.”

“Like what?” John asked, desperately wanting more.

“Moriarty threatened to kill you. And Mrs. Hudson, DI Lestrade, and others. If Sherlock didn’t jump and kill himself, you would all die.” Mycroft sighed. “We left you out of the list of people who would know Sherlock was alive because it would be strange that a man so close to him wasn’t upset at all by his death.”

“I could’ve faked it. I’m not a bad actor.”

“Yes you are.” Mycroft said. “So, I sent Sherlock off on spy missions to keep him safe until I was sure that we could get London flushed out. But, while he was on a mission, he got caught. He was locked in a room for days on end, chained up. They would beat him for hours and then just leave him there. By the time I saw a window to get him out, he already had that patchwork of scars. I got him out and brought him home. Not long after, he went to see you.”

“Oh god.” John said, settling back in his chair. “I punched him that night. I busted up his nose and…” He closed his eyes. “He must have been in so much pain.”

“One of the best doctors in England looked over him and Anthea took him meds four times a day and made sure he took them. He wasn’t in that much pain if he was able to walk to you.” Mycroft explained. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really do have a lot of work to do.” John glared at him some before standing up and marching out of the room.

****

When John arrived back at Baker Street, he could hear the clear sounds of music coming from a violin. John took the stairs two at a time and came into the living room of the flat. Sherlock stopped when he heard John arrive. He turned around and looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” John asked. Sherlock sighed.

“I tried.” He said. “The first time, you were down right pissed at me. And for good reason. And afterwards, I lost my nerve a few times.”

“If you would’ve told me…”

“Would it have really made a difference?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course it would have.” John said. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? But you’re not the one that faked your own death and got caught up in something bad.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have beat the crap out of you if I would’ve known.” John said, earning a smirk from Sherlock. “Hungry? I know a place. I could get take out.”

“I could go for some food.” Sherlock said, putting his violin down. “Thank you John.” John smiled and turned around, leaving the flat to get food. He needed time to absorb all this information. But, he now had a newfound respect for Sherlock Holmes, and no one could take that away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!!


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